"I've made my peace with Rover," said Dereham, nodding lazily at the dog. "You never saw his equal for intelligence, Lomax. Before I sighted you this morning, he put up three almost under my nose, and I missed with both barrels. And that dog just turned his head round and said to me, as plain as could be, 'What a fool of a shot you are.' But I've retrieved my good name, haven't I, old boy?"
Rover implied an affirmative with his tail, and Dereham, for lack of certainty as to how he should proceed with his friend, began to stuff the grouse slowly into his game-bag.
"Well?" said Griff at length.
"Exactly. I was thinking that you've improved since I last saw you. By Jove, I like the way you flashed out on me just now! You're like a horse that has been out to grass for a month. Honestly, Lomax, I'm confoundedly glad you have dropped the Ogilvie nonsense. You didn't seem either excited or surprised when I told you how near she is at this moment."
"What is it? There shall the eagles be gathered together—something. You were always the alternate string to her bow."
"Ah, well, I find her excellent comedy, and that is the most you can expect from any woman. That was what irritated me, you know, when you took her in such screaming sincerity. You won't mind my saying, will you, that you were an astonishing fool in that particular?"
"I shan't mind in the least. I like it."
"Too much fetch and carry, too little compensation, unless you took it funnily. The fair Sybil was altogether too fond of pets in the old days."
"Has she changed particularly?"
Dereham grinned pleasantly at his friend.